


The Fuzz Frustration

by LulaIsAKitten



Series: First Misses [6]
Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-28
Updated: 2019-02-28
Packaged: 2019-11-07 01:07:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17950691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LulaIsAKitten/pseuds/LulaIsAKitten
Summary: For under_my_blue_umbrella, for the prompt “how about Wardle somehow being responsible for a near miss?”





	The Fuzz Frustration

**Author's Note:**

  * For [under_my_blue_umbrella](https://archiveofourown.org/users/under_my_blue_umbrella/gifts).



> For under_my_blue_umbrella, for the prompt “how about Wardle somehow being responsible for a near miss?”

Robin ducked in at the door of the Feathers, shaking out her umbrella behind her, pausing in the doorway to try to leave as much water outside on the already soaked pavement as she could. It had been raining steadily all day, that determined, set-in-for-the-duration rain that didn’t look like letting up any time soon.

Strike was sat at a table in the window, a half-drunk pint and a small glass of white wine in front of him. The pub was surprisingly quiet given that it was approaching the end of the working day; he knew from experience it would become much busier in the next couple of hours.

Robin made her way over to him and dropped her dripping umbrella on the floor. She removed her damp coat and hung it on the back of the chair opposite him and sat. “Any news?”

Strike shook his head. “Wardle won’t be here for forty minutes or so,” he said. “I thought we should meet early and compare notes.”

Robin glanced at her watch. “I’ll have to leave you to talk to him,” she said. “Redhead finishes her step class at six, so I’ll need to leave by half past to get there in time.”

“No worries. It’s just routine anyway, sharing of information. I’m hoping that if I can give him what we’ve got on Nightclub Guy and his drugs problem, he might be able to let slip some information on the last prosecution Finance Freddy managed to avoid.”

Robin nodded and sipped her wine. “Thanks for this.” They had recently found out that one of the board members of the company who had hired their services to investigate potential fraud had had changes of financial irregularity against him dropped at the eleventh hour a year or so ago. Strike suspected he had a history of embezzlement that he was somehow avoiding being prosecuted for, but he couldn’t prove it, or work out how to. He was hoping to get at least some crumbs of information from their Met contact.

“You’re welcome. Your round next,” Strike replied, grinning cheekily.

Robin shook her head. “I shan’t be having another, not if I’m tailing Redhead. Probably shouldn’t have this one. I’ll have to owe you.” And she grinned back just as cheekily.

Strike sat back, smiling, as the conversation slid into their normal banter. These were some of his favourite times of the working week. Just him and Robin, quietly with a drink, sharing thoughts on cases, with the possibility of food looming tantalisingly - the Feathers did a particularly good steak and ale pie - temporarily out of the rain and warm again. These were the simple pleasures that happiness was made of.

Robin filled him in on her day chasing court records, trying to find any mention of Finance Freddy or any companies where he’d previously served on the board. It had been a largely fruitless endeavour, but she had a couple of snippets of information that were of indeterminate usefulness, which Strike could at least dangle in front of Wardle and try to gauge if they were on the right track.

True to her word, Robin turned down the offer of another drink, but offered to buy his. Strike waved her away, his mind set on food now. He went to the bar and bought another pint and ordered a steak pie with chips. _Might as well go the whole hog,_ he thought. He carried his pint back to the table, where Robin was scrolling through her phone notes, checking she hadn’t forgotten to pass anything on. She glanced at her watch. “Mustn’t be late for Redhead,” she muttered, taking another swig of her wine.

Not for the first time, Strike found himself wondering what stroke of fortune had brought Robin into his life. Here she was, with her keen brain and analytical insight that she could have used for any number of highly-paid corporate jobs, choosing to spend her time cheerfully and uncomplainingly trailing round London in the rain on the pittance of a salary he could afford to give her, apparently as happy as he was to accept the rewards of a job well done in lieu of financial security and corporate perks. He had found a kindred spirit, someone who cared about the same things he did. Someone who just got it.

“Penny for your thoughts,” Robin said lightly, finishing the last of her wine. Her time was almost up, and she was going to have to head back out into the rain.

Pushed into reckless honesty by his good mood and two pints of Doom Bar on an empty stomach, Strike heard himself saying, “I was just thinking how incredibly lucky I am that Temporary Solutions sent you to my office that day two years ago.”

Robin blushed, her eyes dropping to her empty wine glass, and Strike, suddenly panicking that his words might have a double meaning that he hadn’t intended to reveal, said quickly, “Professionally, I mean. That I found someone who cares about the job like I do, who gets it...” He trailed off. She looked...disappointed? _Fuck, say something else._ “Robin—”

She looked up at him, her eyes meeting his, and his stomach swooped. Her blue-grey gaze was fond, with just a hint of vulnerability. “I know what you mean,” she said quietly, warmly. “But I also—”

A sharp rap on the window made them both jump. DI Wardle waved and grinned from the street outside and then shouldered his way in at the door.

Robin looked at her watch again. “I’d better go, rush hour traffic.” she said.

Strike slid his hand towards her across the table. “Robin—” he said again. But she didn’t see, already turning to stand, picking up her wet coat. By the time she was on her feet, umbrella in hand, Wardle was stood next to her, grinning his cheeky grin. Strike could cheerfully have throttled him.

“Sorry, can’t stop,” Robin said, smiling at the policeman. “Got an appointment. I’ll see you tomorrow,” she added to Strike, not quite meeting his gaze, her cheeks still slightly pinker than one small glass of wine would warrant. With a little wave she was gone.

For a brief moment Strike couldn’t move. Wardle slid into Robin’s vacated seat. “Not interrupting anything, am I? I’m early, sorry.”

“No,” Strike snapped, just a little too forcefully. He pulled his focus, with difficulty, back to the man in front of him rather than his partner disappearing through the door.

Wardle’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh, I am?” He smirked. “Sorry.” He looked anything but sorry.

Strike glared at him. “You’re not interrupting,” he said crossly, and made an effort to get his irritation under control. Further denial would only prove Wardle’s point, as they both knew.

Wardle held his hands up. “Hey, mate, no one would blame you,” he said. “She’s an attractive woman, you can’t have failed to notice.”

“She’s my partner and friend,” Strike said firmly.

Wardle sat back, a knowing look on his face. “Ah, forbidden fruit. Always juicier,” he said, grinning again.

“What do you want to drink?” Strike asked.

Wardle leaned forward for a moment, his teasing air gone. “There’s no law against it, you know, Gooner,” he said quietly. “You’re both single. And she won’t be for long, I’m sure.”

Strike stood. “Pint, is it?” he indicated towards the bar.

Wardle nodded, his eyes twinkling again, accepting that this part of the conversation was over. “Please.”

Strike walked away.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I have outlines for G, H, I, L and M. Anyone got anything they’d like to see for J or K? Even just a title would do, sometimes that frames the piece. The format is “The [thing that thwarts them] [synonym for avoid or disaster that starts with the same letter]”.


End file.
